The Rider
by troublewillfindme
Summary: Most mortals have learned to fear the monstrous legend of The Rider. Children are shut indoors to keep from getting kidnapped. Everyone lives in fear, as he burns village from village. By chance, Sookie stumbles upon him, as a young girl. He will not forget her, even come ten years later. Why does he burn villages? And what reason does he have to hold Sookie captive? Dark Eric.
1. The rider

**The Rider**

Hide-and-Seek.

It was a childish and innocent game, enough. But when children tended to play it in the dark and gloomy forest that was forbidden, innocent was hardly a word you could call it. The forbidden forest that was closed-off from the townsfolk of Bon Temps had a peculiar scent to it. The lingering scent of earth, and old blood, and death. And that was exactly what Sookie had found in the woods that late afternoon as she hid from her brother.

Sookie liked to climb trees best. She knew a graceful and safe way to use her limbs to stretch out on the branches without falling, and her ten-year-old brother Jason took forever finding her when she hid up trees.

For a moment, a still silence crept over the forest as she trod and heaved herself further up a tree. Jason's voice calling out for her suddenly trailed off and grew disturbingly distant. But then she heard it:

_"Come out, come out, wherever you are!"_

She let out a sigh of relief hearing her brother's voice and she was about to make her way back down the tree to startle him when she heard another sound sweep through the woods. It was the sound of horse's hooves pounding the dirt.

Sookie stared below the branches and saw a magnificent white stallion gaiting past. It's coat was as white as snow, but what intrigued her the most, she thought, was the person riding on the brilliant creature. She could not discern the rider's appearance; as he was wearing a long black cloak with the hood up, keeping his face invisible to any eyes who dared to seek a face underneath it. As the rider clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth gently to persuade his white horse to a stop, he dismounted the horse swiftly by swinging his legs around its powerful torso and his large pair of dark leather boots that came up to his knees hit the dirt loudly from underneath the soles of them.

Sookie couldn't tear her eyes away from the cloaked figure; She found herself captivated, both by the horse, and its invisible owner. She held her breath as he brought his hands up to the hood covering his face, and her heart stopped for a moment when he cast back the hood to reveal a man's face. His hair was matted clumps of dirty-blond that rippled an inch or so below his shoulder-blades, and he had an ethereal but highly menacing quality to him. He looked weather-beaten, and rugged, as though he had been on horseback for evenings on end. His jaw was set as he peered around the forest, and the air around him seemed to have dark, luring appeal.

Sookie watched him survey his surroundings, and she moved a little to catch a better glimpse of this mysterious rider. Much to her misfortune, the branch she went to step on gave out a little snap, leaves whirled down towards the ground, and it seemed to alert the mysterious man in a daunting way. Without warning, he bore a long pale sword with skill, like a sharp and expert weapon-bearer, and as he reclined his head towards the trees where she hid, Sookie wished she was invisible.

Eyes a brilliant ocean hue met hers from where she remained hiding, and Sookie felt cold all over. There was an odd aura of fear and danger the man presented, simply by looking at her.

"It seems there is a monkey hiding in the trees," spoke the man, and, deliberately it seemed, he brought his eyes away from her and glanced off into the distance. "Why don't you come down from that tree and reveal yourself to me?"

Sookie's heart raced furiously, and she tightened her grasp of the branches above her. It had to have been a one metre drop, and she wasn't sure she had enough strength to grapple her way safely down the tree with a strangers eyes on her. "I don't think I will, good sir," she said in as calm a voice as she could manage, directing her quaky voice down at him from where he stood, waiting below her. She knew better than to trust some stranger that had a weapon drawn. What if he slit her throat the instance she did?

"Yes, you will, girl, you will climb down this instance; and you won't defy me."

Suppressing the urge to stick out her tongue at him, she attempted to climb further up the tree. But to her dismay, the branch she was standing on decided to break from underneath her, and she was sent flying down the tree. She let out a small, agonized scream as one of the branches cut into her right cheek, and she screamed again in embarrassment as she saw herself falling precisely on top of the rider's head. She brought him down with her, and since his body was in the way, he took most of the impact and cushioned her fall rather lovely.

With a strangled noise, Sookie's eyes shot open and stared nervously at where she lay. Somehow, she had landed right on the centre of the man's chest, and his head was flopped back at an odd angle. She could see crushed dirt and leaves in his long hair as it billowed out around him, and as she took a closer inspection of his face, she felt her heart beat frantically. His handsome face was just a few inches from hers, and his eyes were tightly closed, as though she had winded him terribly. She couldn't even hear him breathing, no less, and when she raised her hand and placed it carefully underneath his nose, she couldn't feel anything touching her skin. No breathing. His chest didn't even move. He wasn't breathing; He was still as a corpse.

_"Oh, no,"_ Sookie thought sadly, as she stared wide-eyed at the man. _"I've gone and killed him!"_

Something caught her attention on his robe, and she saw he had a little pendant dangling around his neck, fastened around it with a thread of drawstring. It was an interesting looking pendant, though, she hadn't any wits about what it was meant to be. She brought her eyes back up to the man's face, curious to if he had made any movement or sign of life again. But his eyes were still closed, and he did not stir.

She needed to get help, that's what Sookie had to do. She needed to get back into town and call on a doctor to return and get him fixed up.

With that idea in mind, she lifted herself carefully off his chest and sprung to her feet. She bent her knees in a way to prepare herself to run for her life back into town to get some assistance, when suddenly something seized her ankle in a death grip. She gasped and looked, and saw that the man's hand was clutching onto her ankle, preventing her from leaving. Despite all that, his eyes were still closed, and he looked dead. It was almost as if seizing her by the ankle had been a sudden spasm he had been inflicted with, and he seemed to be holding onto her ankle quite effortlessly.

"Please, good sir," Sookie panted, struggling to get free. "Release me. I'm trying to help you."

The man's lips parted open, finally a sign of life. And then, he spoke through them, "What makes you think I need your help, girl?" His deep voice was mocking. "It is _you_ that needs more help than I. Do you know who I am?"

Sookie shook her head, "I wouldn't care anyway, who you are. The only person's name I need to know of is the good Lord's himself. Now, please, let me go."

"As you wish," answered the man, letting his tight grip falter immediately. Catching her off-guard, she stumbled back a fraction, and watched the man cautiously as he climbed to his feet. He was so much taller than her. It made her feel almost small, insignificant. His long hair rippled in the breeze, and she took a step backwards as he took a careless one forwards. "You needn't be frightened. I will not hurt you, so you can consider yourself lucky. I only wish to help you."

"Help me?" Sookie shot back, with haughty pride in her voice. "Why would you need to help me?"

He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled shrilly. His fine white horse galloped back over to his side faithfully, and in a way that almost made her laugh, the horse ducked it's head at her and made a courteous bowing movement by crisscrossing its front legs. Sookie stared at the beautiful horse in bewilderment, and caught herself wanting to feel how soft it's coat no doubt was. Her eyes flitted up to the man to find that he was watching her vehemently with eyes that seemed to gauge her every reaction. He sheathed his sword next, and she felt immediately comforted by the action.

"May I?" she asked uncertainly, hesitantly reaching out with a hand full of eagerly splayed fingers towards the horse.

"You may," the man simply said quietly, with eyes that refused to leave her. The moment her fingers touched the horse's white coat, she fell in love. She wanted to put her cheek flat against it next, to feel how luxuriously soft its coat was.

The man threw his hood over his features and Sookie stepped back a fraction warily as he mounted the horse. Sookie backed away and he watched her with secretive eyes through the cloak as she dashed away without even so much as another glimpse back at him. He reached down and stroked the small spot on his horse that she had touched with her smaller fingers, and even then, he could almost still feel the heat of her. He could easily conjure in his mind how scrubbed and clean her fingernails had been, and how delicate her hands were, and how soft to the touch. The beds of his fingernails, however, were marked with blood and dirt, from endless years of bloodshed and carnage. So dirty, so unclean, _very much_ unlike _hers_. He had never seen a girl of her tender age seem so unaffected and courageous in front of him. For goodness sake, she even petted his horse.

"I shall not forget you," he said to himself, as he stared off long ways into the place she had now disappeared. "And I will return for you, in a few years perhaps. You live in the little secluded town of Bon Temps, I see?" He patted his horse and scratched it behind the ears absently. "Lucifer," he whispered to the horse, putting his mouth by it's pointy ear, "I believe Eric Northman has found his marionette, at last."

He tapped the horse on the side with his shoe forcefully, and commanded the horse to hurtle westward.

* * *

**I'm not sure if anyone will like this. I'm a very big fan of The Lord of The Rings, etc, and imagined what it would be like to have Eric Northman as this dark and reclusive figure, who people fear. I would very much appreciate your thoughts, or even a simple comment telling me to continue, and that it is something you would like for me to continue, would be wonderful**


	2. Ten Years Later

**Thank you all for your interest and response. Hoping you enjoy this one ;) If you're wondering how Eric looks as the rider, just picture him as Alexander Skarsgard in his Viking flashbacks, with his long hair. This is ten years later, where Sookie is nineteen years old. She was a little girl when she first stumbled across Eric. Hoping it makes sense. **

* * *

**Chapter Two**

**Ten years later... **

Terrified blood-curdling screams filled the air as people in the village of Shreveport ran for their lives. The large town was ablaze with billowing smoke and bright deathly flames rose from the roofs of houses.

Mothers grabbed their children as they dashed for safety. Husbands fell to their knees and begged God for mercy; A mercy which will not fall on them this evening. Their prayers wouldn't be answered. It wasn't time for prayer, it was time for absconding the wreckage.

The moon vanished before the thick gusts of smoke from the burning village, concealing the brightly lit stars and producing a thick, heavy hopeless darkness. The flames were the only source of hellish, blazing light.

This wasn't the first village that had been set aflame and burnt until everything fell to the ground, nor would it be the last.

The town knew who did this; they knew who was responsible for ruining their village. Only a cold-hearted, evil figure could do this and put all lives regardless of age at risk. There had been gossip months previously among the townsmen that a demonic figure rode on horseback and surveyed the lands, pondering which village to burn next. No one really believed the tales at first, of the rider who rode on his white horse from village to village and secretly plotted his destruction. Drunken men with mead in the tankards at the local drinking spot in Shreveport blubbered horrifying fables off their sloppy tongues for any silly and unwise enough to listen.

The main tale existing on the rumour mill across town was that the mysterious rider was not burning villages for solely being hell-bent on vengeance at all. Rumours told, in a romanticized light, that the mysterious rider wasn't burning villages for vengeance. Some said he was doing it for the sole purpose of love. Women liked to cling onto this foolish notion themselves, and boasted the tale of the rider rather heroic and tragic. But in the end, the reasons why did not matter. Not when village after village was being destroyed thanks to his fiery wrath, and endless innocent women, men and children were extinguished, with no proper rhyme or reason.

Men across town knew better than to believe the rider did this out of romantic or unfortunate reasons, such as love as a main motivator. They saw him for what he truly was; Portrayed him as an accursed and demonic figure whose main lust in life was bloodbaths and killing. To the rider, had he known each viewpoint in which people regarded him, he would have deemed them correct in both speculations.

The rider wasn't too far away from the smouldering village. This was the part he revelled in the most, watching in on the aftereffects of a village ruined and broken. He was standing on a mounted hill by his white horse, Lucifer, overlooking the town being engulfed in flames. He listened to the hopeless cries of men, women, and children from a distance. His hood was over his head, but he could still see and use his hearing effectively. The sounds of waving, violent flames and the terrorized cries was like a symphony to him; a beautiful symphony. He petted his horse absent-mindedly and drew in a deep, relaxing breath. He closed his eyes, and the wails of women intermingled into one being; one _glorious_ being that had affected him so severely after only a brief encounter. He envisioned her scampering up the hill in order to break free from the hellish,evil flames, and he imagined himself breaking her trail. He imagined scooping her up onto his horse, and fleeing away with her on horseback. He imagined her soft, clean scrubbed fingernails.

All the murders, all the sin he had committed, seemed somewhat forgiven whenever he pictured her. He didn't even know the name she went by, but he had inexorable hope that constantly filled him and warmed his cold, unfeeling bones and flesh, that they would meet again one day, someday... He opened his eyes slowly and turned his hooded head southward to the small, little village of Bon temps.

Meeting her again could be sooner than he thought. It could be easily arranged. So he began plotting, ignoring Lucifer's tired whinnies.

* * *

The moon hung brilliantly in the darkness of the night. Slow, dark clouds drifted across the moon, shielding the moonlight and casting the town into a complete pitch-black night. The village of Bon Temps slept serenely. Children were tucked safely in the bed. Husband and wives slept soundless without worry; Some stayed awake, bursting with love and affection, and their action and movements danced to a loving rhythm in their beds.

A dog began to whine and bark near the large wooden gate that protected the village of Bon Temps and hindered all mischievous children daring to cross into the forbidden forest that surrounded the outskirts of the town. Sookie Stackhouse was roused from her dreams, and she peered up at the ceiling as she listened to the poor dog whine and whimper. The dog was obviously frightened of something. Something bad had happened.

Unable to ignore the stressed dog, Sookie climbed out of bed and lit a candlestick with a match. She carefully sneaked downstairs to the front door, cautious and wary to avoid the floorboards that tended to creak which she knew the map of from heart. She yanked back the steel bolt from the front door, cracked it open, and slipped out into the still evening night.

She hurried towards the dogs cries, and the candle glowed softly across her face as she lifted her arm in the air to better see in the darkness. With her unused hand, she tightened her cloak around her shoulders to ward off the biting chill in the air, and used her keen sense of hearing to find whereabouts the dog was making a fuss. Her braided fair hair bounced around her shoulders as she walked briskly towards the gate. The dog was sniffing around the entrance, wagging its tail to a furious and startled beat. Sookie's bare feet crunched on the dirt and rocks on the ground, alerting the dog, and it turned and it's bristly white tail beat to a more excited rhythm at the sight of her.

"Oh, be quiet, little darling," she told the dog, as she fell down to her knees. The dog pounced on her then, and licked around her face. She laughed and stroked the dog behind its ears. It made a growling noise of delight. "Why're you making such a big noise? Don't you know that it is bound to wake everybody from their sleeping!"

He sniffed at her hair and gave her a long look.

She brought the candle into the direction of the gate and saw that the peephole was hanging wide open. The peephole was pulled back manually to see clearly any visitors that came about the town for daily visits. She couldn't really see anything from where she was kneeling on her knees, but she thought she heard a stealthy movement from behind the gates.

"Is there somebody there?" she asked the dog, growing scared. It was usual for people to attempt to visit this late of nightfall. Sookie cursed herself for being scared so easily; She knew she hadn't any real reason to be afraid. No visitors had come to the village as a threat to the town in years. She got to her feet and angled the glow of the flickering candle into the direction of the opened peephole. As she broke the distance, squinting her eyes to see more visibly, she caught sight of a glimmering pair of grey eyes staring back at her through the peephole. Somebody was waiting behind the gate, probably praying to be let in at this ridiculous time of the night. Despite the person's features being mostly concealed by the rough wood that blocked and closed the village off, she felt a strange familiarity in those eyes that looked back at her.

And then, a man's coarse voice spoke at her, in a voice just above a whisper, "Will you be so kind as to let me in?" Even that voice held a semblance of familiarity to Sookie, though she couldn't figure out why. Why did she recognize those pair of eyes-and that voice? Had she met the man before? She couldn't be certain.

"You're going to have to wait 'till morning. Only the guards are permitted to allow entrance," she told him, matching his quiet level of voice. She bent her knees to scruff the dog by it's toughened fur gently, and stumbled backwards. "Come on, little darling," she beckoned the dog, and much to her pleasure, it obeyed her. She directed the dog back to the house, and opened the door wider to permit the stray dog entrance. It followed her upstairs, and sat by her bed, his head cocked to one side. She pulled the covers of her bed back, and slipped inside. Then she patted the space between her, and the dog leapt and sniffed around before settling itself comfortable near her stomach.

"Don't you tell my Grandmother that I've let you in for the night," she told the dog, and it wagged it's tail softly at the sound of her voice. She smiled, and rubbed behind the dog's pointy ears. "Goodnight, darling."

And at that, she leaned across the bed and blew out the candle.

Yet, to her dismay, she found she couldn't fall back to the sleep. Those man's eyes burned in her vision, and she couldn't help wondering... wondering where she had seen them before. Should she have let him in? She couldn't help feeling slightly guilty at the thought of the unknown man lingering outside by the entrance. Then again, he was a stranger and it wasn't her right to allow entrance to just any person crossing into the town. She had to trust that she had done the right thing for Bon temps.

**Who was the mysterious figure watching her through the peephole with his eyes? Why, it's Eric, of course. Lol. Hope you liked this one? Please review, and thanks very much for reading and showing an interest.**


	3. Catching Her

**Thank you all for your interest and response. So sorry it took me a long time to update :) Hope you enjoy this one!**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

He sat there all night, waiting for dawn to break out a first sign of life.

He made a wood-fire, and huddled around it, trying to keep himself warm, in the red lit glow. He watched the moon intently, and his eyes began to feel grainy and sleepy. He blinked, and shook himself forcefully to keep himself awake. As morning slowly approached, so did rain. Within an instance, his cloak was drenched and his teeth chattered together miserably. The fire he had made for himself ran out. He found himself pleased it was morning once a bird crowed somewhere in the trees.

Even Lucifer could sense the impending separation in advance. The stallion became noticeably unsettled; He lifted his front leg, made a gentle whinny, then buried his hooves deep into the ground, shuffling dirt.

"Calm," Eric commanded of the horse sternly. "Calm."

The morning rain pattered and cascaded down his unconcealed face. His hair was drenched and soaked, making him appear even more threatening. With his hand, he absent-mindedly stroked his hair back to keep the hair from being plastered in front of his eyes. He clenched his fists at his sides as the peephole on the gate was wrenched open. A pair of beady, brown eyes stared back at him in alarm.

"Who's there?" a man's voice bellowed behind the gates. "Who be visiting at this time of the morning?"

Eric turned to look back at his horse, and pressed a finger to his lips in warning for the stallion not to make a single sound, or movement. It was lucky Lucifer was out of sights way, or he might have recognised the tales that had spread from town to town of the man who rode on his white horse, wrecking havoc on villages. "Good morning," Eric greeted the man nervously, "I am visiting. I was hoping you would be so kind as to let me in."

The beady eyes roamed down his face carefully through the peephole. "And what brings you here to the village of Bon Temps?"

"I am looking for someone," Eric answered, without hesitation. "A girl."

"There are many girls here. You're going to have to be a bit more specific. What is her name?"

"I do not know her name," Eric said, his teeth clenching with irritation. "But I will recognize her, first instance I see her. I mean your village no harm. I only wish to see the girl again."

"I cannot let you in, I'm afraid."

Eric fought back on his anger, and breathed in deeply through his nostrils to calm himself. This was the second time he had been denied entrance into the village of Bon Temps. First, from a woman. And now, from the silly guard. Eric did not like being denied, of anything. "Very well, then. I will return another day." Another day, would turn into nightfall, once everyone was asleep and unsuspecting.

Biting down on his tongue, he turned and strode back over to his horse. "Night it is, then," he spoke to himself quietly, venom coating his tongue. "You've given me no choice."

* * *

In the early hours of the night, Sookie woke suddenly from a light sleep, as though someone had shook her awake vigorously to alarm her. She saw that the stray dog she had taken into her Grandmother's home was sitting upright on its legs, its ears perked as though it heard something troubling. The dog whined softly at her, and Sookie smiled tiredly to herself, and fell back onto her pillows.

She soon fell back to sleep; but her dreams were mingled with startled shouts and the hoofs of a horse galloping throughout the village. When the dog started barking, she sat up and realized then that something was terribly wrong. She immediately pulled herself out of bed and went to her Grandmother, who she found was staring outside the window, looking sleepy and frightened.

"Gran, what is it?" she asked, racing to her Grandmother's side at once.

"Someone has broken through the gates," she whispered back to her young Granddaughter, in horror. "Someone has invaded the village."

"Don't worry." She held her Grandmother's hand comfortingly. "The guards will stop them." Sookie looked out the window herself. Several guards were circling the entrance, but they were no match for a man riding on a stark-white horse.

* * *

The guards heard it only when the wooden gates were being knocked open. The locks burst open and the timber fell back, alerting them to an intruder. One guard ran out, and a black figure swiftly advanced on him, and sounds of hooves pounding the dirt warned him the intruder had a horse.

"No, no," he cried out, "Wait, no!" But it was too late.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a sword struck him in the neck, and he collapsed onto his knees, a retching agonized wreck. The guard searched for the edges of the cut with his fingertips, hoping to staunch the scarlet liquid gurgling out of him like a ruthless waterfall. There came a smear of movement in between his moist eyes. He could not tell what it was through the tears.

"You should have let me in," a man's voice said menacingly from above him. "You would have made things far more simpler. You could have saved yourself."

The guard fell headfirst into the dirt, and felt his life slipping between his fingers.

* * *

More and more screams broke out around the village. Sookie gripped her Grandmother's hands with numb fingers. Things had turned bad. The guards weren't succeeding in keeping the intruder out. And they could not stand around, huddled inside, and pray all could be well any longer.

"Gran," Sookie's voice fell into an urgent whisper. "We can't stay. We have to leave."

"But he is still out there!" Her Grandmother cried fearfully. "What if he catches us trying to escape?"

"We have to try," Sookie insisted, sounding far braver than she truly felt. "We can't just stay here!" With cold dread gnawing at her heart, Sookie forced her Grandmother to fetch her older brother. And then they began to run, like everyone else in the village had.

* * *

Lucifer was growing tired, but Eric pushed him on.

He shut his eyes briefly, and listened to the scream and cries as everyone ran from their houses. When he reopened them, he caught a glimpse of an old woman scurrying off in another direction, with two younger children at her side. He caught one glimpse of the female child's fair-hair, and he knew. Oh, he knew. It was_ her_. It had to be her.

His heart pulsed and electrified. _There she was._

Desperate to catch her, he kicked his shin into his stallion and urged him forward to where the three were running to flee.

* * *

Sookie looked back behind her shoulder as they ran. Her heart was thumping a million beats inside her chest. She gasped in terror as the cloaked figure on the horse became terribly, terribly closer to them. The figure's sword was drawn, as he rushed towards them on horseback. The long sword the figure held shone in the dark. And then the figure was springing down on his horse.

Without thinking, Sookie threw her Grandmother and brother into the ground hastily, and heard herself crying, "_Duck, duck_!" She was anticipating the pain. She thought death was coming, and that, at any moment... the sword would plunge through her. Rather instead, she felt a hand grasp onto her forearm tightly, and as she staggered and fell over her brother's body, her left cheek hit the ground with such force she cried out shrilly in pain. She caught, through the darkness, the figure swoop down to her. The figure sank to his knees in front of her, and though she was drifting in and out of coherency, she heard the figure utter soft-spoken words at her. She heard her Grandmother's wailing piercing through her ears, and then she whimpered anxiously as she felt herself being thrown over the cloaked figure's back. Her head bounced slightly as the creature trudged towards the white horse.

"Please," she cried. "Please, good sir. What do you want from me? _Who_ are you?"

The man trudged on unconcernedly, ignoring her prayers. She was being forced onto the horse's saddle, and she sagged, weary, fretful, and bone-tired. The white horse leaped forward, and sped through the village like the wind breezing through the trees. Sookie could distantly hear her Grandmother sobbing out her name, but further and further they rode, the more distant and quieter her Grandmother's voice grew. Fear filled Sookie. Who was this cloaked figure? What did he want with her? She gripped onto the horse's mane with all her might, her fingernails digging, for fear she would fall off. The wind whistled in her ears, and bit her eyes as she tried to pry them open. All she could see was darkness. A never-ending path of darkness ahead.

She opened her mouth to beg for mercy again. No cry came out. No cry or moan whatsoever.

"It is alright," A man's voice spoke at her through the whistling wind solemnly, as they rode on. "I've got you now. You don't need to be afraid."


	4. Captive

_**Thank you all for being so sweet and showing your interest and support in the story. I am very pleased it is different. You're probably wondering what on earth is going on, but questions will be answered very soon. It'll be a bit slow at first. Hoping you enjoy regardless.**_

* * *

_**Chapter Four**_

The white horse began to grow weary as the night closed in darker. It's movements slowed, until it was walking at a leisurely pace. The air around Sookie grew so chilly and frosty that the scrape on her cheek began to ache dully and disturb her. Her eyes felt swollen and weepy from crying and pleading desperately. No matter how many times she tried to plead some reason into the man, he did not hear her. He seemed to turn deaf at her cries, and unwillingly, after a while, she gave up and realized her attempts were fruitless.

It was so dark out that all could be seen was the round glaring shape of the moon above them. After a while, the horse snorted and came to a halt, and she felt, rather than saw, her cloaked captor dismount his horse. She could hardly see him through the night; He was a mere shadowed blur, as he scampered off for a moment. When she heard his footsteps announcing his return, he commanded her to get off the horse and follow him. Wearily, she did, and her feet felt heavy as they walked up what seemed a steep slope of land. He made a fire and removed the hood of his cloak around his face, and his hair waved around his face in unwashed clumps.

He was unlike the men in the village of Bon Temps, who kept themselves looking clean and prided themselves on their appearance; In the harsh and unforgiving firelight, she could see his long cloak that draped around him, and his long boots were soiled with dirt. He looked rugged and vicious, like a stray dog. Smears of dirt smudged along the centre of his fair eyebrows, along his angular cheekbones, and his chin was covered with sparse, thick hairs. He gave off the appearance of a man who had ridden on horseback for years, and Sookie felt she was probably right in guessing so.

He swooped down to the ground, folded his knees into his chest and wrapped his long arms around them, and bid her quietly to sleep.

She tucked her long dress underneath her ankles and sat on the hard-earth, her eyes never once daring to leave him. They couldn't afford to; She was frightened he might attack her without warning. She had to keep on-guard around him. She couldn't, for the life of her, understand what was going on. Why did he threaten the entire village of Bon Temps, only to hold her captive like this? What did he want from her? All she could gather, was that he either wanted sex, or a woman's presence and companionship.

Though she didn't know who he was, his reputation preceded him; She had heard the numerous tales of him, of how he went from town to town; A mysterious man on his white horse, a diabolical man, who went from town to town and burned villages to no more than ashy wreckage to the ground. If this was, in fact, the very same man she had heard about: Then why was he holding her like this against her will? Why her? What had she done to deserve this?

Though her eyes felt heavy and grainy, she refused to close them. She was frightened of what might happen, if she did.

Howls broke out around them from wolves and she started. The man showed no sign or flinch of fear at the sounds; He simply sat there, still as anything, observing her. Clearly he had lived like this for so long, the noises and creatures of the night did not disturb him.

After a while, Sookie fell into an uneasy, restless slumber. She had comforting dreams of being inside, being with her Grandmother, and then tragically, she woke to find herself elsewhere, outside in the cold air, surrounded by unnameable creatures and a man she did not know.

She couldn't sleep around him; she felt uneasy, wary of him. She sat up slowly and looked around. She saw him through the burning embers of the fire, huddled over it sitting hunched up, watching her, as he turned something over and over in his hands. The unknown object was attached to his neck by string, and he seemed to be muttering to himself in a foreign language she couldn't make out.

His looking at her suddenly twisted into an expression of wry amusement. He let the object attached to his neck slide from his hands as he regarded her more intently. "Are you frightened of me? Is that why you refuse to sleep?"

"Yes, of course I am." She resisted the temptation to turn her face away and flinch in fear. "I do not know why you have me here like this."

She watched cautiously as he delved a hand around inside his cloak blindly, searching for something. Then he produced a hip-flask. He unscrewed the cap, and held it out into her direction, without really looking at her. "Would you like some?"

"What is it?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Only the essence of life," he said grandly, in a way that puzzled her.

She battled with indecision for a moment. Her lips did feel dry, and her tongue kept moulding to the roof of her mouth; She was maddeningly thirsty, after the fright of the evening. But he had done nothing yet to give her faith and make her entrust in him, and she knew better than to chance it. What if he had poisoned it? It wasn't a risk Sookie wanted to take. "No, I won't have any, good sir," she said decisively after a moment.

"Have it your way, then," he murmured, and she watched as he lifted the flask to his lips, dipped his head back, and drank avariciously in a way that taunted her. He wetted his lips, took one more indulgent swig, then screwed the cap back on and thrust the flask back underneath his cloak.

She ground her teeth together, trying to forget how dry her mouth actually was, and stared down into the bright flickers of orange flames in the wood-fire. She could feel his eyes on her, and it made her skin crawl, as if little spiders were roaming all over her body.

"You have a cut on your cheek," he remarked idly. "How did that come about?"

"I fell over," she replied stiffly, raising her chin towards the warmth of the burning fire in a deliberate manner of apathy. Her sore, burning cheek was the least of her concerns currently.

She was more concerned about the fact she was being held captive by a madman who rode on horseback, a man who had captured her and taken her away from her family. A man who she did not know the intentions of, but immediately gathered that they couldn't have been for anything righteous.

She caught the movement in the corner of her wary eyes, as he scooted closer to her carelessly. The sensations of spiders dancing over her body overcame her again, unnerving her. She could feel him inspecting her face far closely than what made her comfortable. She took a furtive glance over at him, and her heart thumped furiously against her left breast, when he reached carelessly for the hilt of his sword. He drew the long sword and the blade glinted menacingly in the firelight. She felt her entire body tense as she observed him slash himself violently on the forefinger to draw blood. She saw not an ounce of pain flicker across his features.

She kept her eyes on his, boiling with loathing, as he put his finger out towards her. He kept his gaze on hers, too, as slowly he brought his hand up to her cheek, and the instance his bleeding finger swiped across her cheekbone, over the blistering graze, she felt the touch like a bite. She jolted in alarm and saw that his lips curved as he saw that his touch was a shock to her. When he removed his finger from her cheek, she felt instantly soothed and was alarmed to find she felt no more tenderness on her cheek where she had taken a fall in her haste to escape him. She wondered then if he had a healing power, but then realized it was ludicrous of her to wonder so. He certainly couldn't, could he?

Now that her cheek felt better, she found she could lay on it more easily. She laid back down and was swept away into another unpleasant dream, of dark shapes and haunting voices calling to her.

* * *

In the morning Sookie woke to find the fire had run out and smoke was wafting from the damp fire-wood. She sat up slowly and stretched her limbs, and her neck felt stiff and rigid. Her eyes immediately sought out her unpleasant companion, and she found him sitting there in his previous position as he had before she fell asleep. He seemed to notice she was awake, and without word, he stood and went off alone. She watched him until he faded off, then she looked out at the horse that was standing by. Sometimes Sookie admired animals more than she did human beings; Animals had far less malicious intentions usually, and it was easier to learn whether they caused her harm.

She climbed to her feet and approached the white horse, admiring it. It's white coat was glossy and had a beautiful, clean sheen to it. It turned it's head at her approach, and looked at her through dark eyelashes and even darker, hollow slits of eyes. She smiled and tentatively lifted her hand, and she was shocked when the horse turned its long muzzle into her palm and gave out a few loud sniffs into her skin through its big, round nostrils.

"You're beautiful," she whispered, turning her hand. She glided her fingers through the short, wiry hairs. There was something about this horse that struck her as familiar; She recognized it somehow, and yet she couldn't understand why. It was exactly like the unknown man who held her captive; She recognize him, she felt an odd familiarity, and yet whenever she tried to reflect hard on where she might have seen him before, she couldn't.

"What are you doing to my horse?" The man's voice suddenly demanded, and before she had any time to properly explain, he popped up from the rear-end of the horse, held her elbow in a tight grasp through gloved, slippery fingers, and Sookie felt the sharp, cold edge of his sword digging and stinging into the thin flesh of her throat.

"Forgive me," she whimpered, trying not to flinch in fear. He was back to wearing his cloak again, as if he feared the early morning rays of daylight touching his skin. She tried to see the man's face through the cloak, but she couldn't. All she could see was a faint outline. "I was just marvelling your horse, is all."

"Why?" His grip tightened on her unpleasantly.

"You're the man responsible for burning all those villages, aren't you?" she whispered accusatory.

"I am," he admitted, with no sense of shame whatsoever. In fact, he seemed rather proud of himself. She could hear it plainly in his voice.

"And why would you?" She eyed him coldly as though he presented her nothing more than pure disgust. "Because you are deranged and ill in the head?"

"You could say that, yes," he confirmed, matter-of-factly. "But there are also other reasons."

"What other reasons could there be?" she demanded forcefully, through her teeth.

He seemed frustrated and restless by her whirlwind of accusations and inquiries. He stood down briskly from his defensive stance, lowered his sword from her throat. Though he lowered the blade of the sword to the ground, he still suddenly seemed to grow taller, menacing in her eyes. He tore down the hood that covered his features, and his eyes gleamed at her from where she stood. "You have lived in ignorance for many, many years. There are certain things existing in the world that you haven't the slightest idea of. There are forces beyond your control, forces that exist to harm you." He stepped closer to her, so close that his face was inches from hers, and he seemed strong and commanding.

Still, Sookie stood her ground. She clenched her fists to give her courage. "And are you one of those forces that exist to harm me?"

Without warning, he laughed. It was a harsh, long laugh right in her face. His hand flew to the hilt on his sword. Sookie dared not to move stubbornly from her position. "Don't you already know the answer to that?" he said. "I could have easily killed you, ten years ago, when I saw you that day."

"What are you talking about?" she asked defensively. "I've never seen you before in my entire life."

"Oh, but you have," he went on confidently, in a low voice. "Isn't there a certain familiarity that strikes you about me?"

Sookie thought carefully for a moment, aware that he was scrutinizing her carefully with his eyes. At last, she spoke with quiet hesitation, "I don't know. In some ways, you are a stranger to me. But then I recognize your eyes, and your voice, for some strange reason."

"It isn't strange at all. We met. Briefly, mind you," he said quietly. "We met when you were a wee little girl. You were a monkey hiding up in the trees." Sookie suddenly realized, her heart leaped in her chest, and she tried to suppress a gasp. He must have seen the look of recollection in her eyes, because he continued carelessly, "You defied me, and then in defying me you took a fall from the tree. You landed precisely on top of me." He smiled at her then, and it surprised her; The unexpectedness of it. His smile almost made him look benign, and years younger. "I spared your life then. What is to say I wouldn't do it again?"

Sookie's brain went disturbingly foggy at that remark. She shook her head violently, tried to steer conversation back onto the right footing. "What certain things are existing in the world that I don't know about? Tell me." She took in a deep breath, and added softly, swallowing her pride, "Please, sir."

He seemed to waver against telling her; She could see so in his eyes. Then he said arrogantly, "You wouldn't understand even if I tried..."

"You have me here against my will!" she cried forcefully. "You took me from my village! At least give me the common courtesy of knowing why! You took me away from my family! If you're not here to hurt me, or do whatever you will with me, then why..._ why_ did you take me away? What do you intend to do with me? If you won't give me anything else, then please give me that!"

His eyes turned suddenly watchful, and he turned his back on her, surveying the lands.

"Tell me, damn you!" she repeated angrily. "_Tell_ me!"

His eyes flared and he gritted his teeth at something unknown to her that he could somehow sense from miles off. Then he pulled his hood back over his face, as if to shield himself from daylight, and ignored her. "We have to move, now," he simply said shortly, and much to her irritation, he confidently took his horse and began guiding it forward. "You can either go by foot, as I will, or you can ride Lucifer and go on horseback. Your choice entirely."

Within a heartbeat, she chose the horse.


	5. His father's Last Dying Wish

**I want to thank you all for being so sweet with your reviews and the alerts I have received on this story. It's very inspiring and encourages me to write. Hoping you enjoy this one. :-) Thanks again!**

* * *

Sookie eventually began to lose track of how long they strolled for. She kept her eyes glued on the man's hood, as he walked on foot beside her, guiding his horse along as she sat astride it. Sookie wasn't used to riding on horse-back; Her legs began to grow stiff and cramped. But she would have preferred to ride the magnificent stallion any day, other than have to walk afoot as the man was. His name was still a mystery to her, as was many other things about him. She kept herself on-guard regardless of his sworn word not to hurt her; He had done nothing as yet to win over her trust. Trust is a gradually earned thing, Sookie knew. It would take time and gestures for her to completely let her guard down around him and consider him worthy of faith in her books.

They must have trudged on up high slopes of hill silently for hours, because brighter daybreak slowly started to settle in. She noticed the man kept his hands covered in thick gloves, and his face concealed in his hood, as orange rays of sun started scanning before them. Sookie wondered if he had some type of skin ailment that rendered him allergic to the sun.

After a while, they rested for a brief space of time. The man took a swig of his flask, but he did not offer any of what he called the 'life of essence' to her, probably because he already knew she would decline again out of wariness of him. She watched him as he appeared to search the ground; Apparently finding something, the man crouched down a few steps ahead of her and examined the ground. Sookie ground her teeth, wondering what he was doing, when he cast his head to the ground and pressed his ear against the earth. He seemed to be listening intently, and she held her breath as she observed him wipe a scoop of dirt off the ground, smoothing it between his fingers pensively.

There were tracks; Four-footed prints laid on the earth. Eric knew what it meant. Wolves were near, probably a large clan of them. He began to grow uneasy. His lips curled unpleasantly, as he recalled certain events that happened years and years ago.

_Eric was startled awake at the sound of footsteps among his kingdom running frantically. There were loud cries. The house servants ran for cover. Immediately, he drew his sword to go investigate. He went into the main room, where feasts were served, and found it disturbingly quiet. His bright steady eyes inspected the room. Pots and pans where strewn everywhere among the ground. His mother's body lay in an odd position. His father was somewhere near._

_He caught sight of a long shadow moving about in the house. Wolf-dogs slithered around the house; their coats glistening. Raising his bright sword and grinding his teeth, Eric crashed into the room, prepared and ready to battle for his family. Were-dog's turned their heads into his direction at his stealthily movement; Their yellow eyes bright and their teeth bared at him. Several wolves growled at him, and he lowered his sword aimed at one of the dog's chests._

_"Who are you, and what are you doing in my family's land?" he asked the blurred-figure that stood a while away. The figure was long and slender, and he wore a dark cloak around his form. A hood covered his head and disturbed his features beyond distinction. Eric gasped as his eyes took in his beloved father's crown glistening in the man's hand. _

_"Don't be a hero," the figure spoke. "You lack a warrior's heart."_

_Eric lowered his blade as he heard an alarming noise. His father coughed and spluttered from where he was laying._

_He turned his eyes back onto the figure holding his father's crown. His eyes hardened. "Who are you, I said?" He demanded. "Answer me."_

_Eric strode forward, keeping his feet width apart for better movement with his sword. His grip on the hilt tightened, as he got himself into a defensive stance._

_"Do not be a fool," the figure said coldly. "It would be unwise to attempt to go against me."_

_"Eric, my son," his father breathed hoarsely from his position on the floor. "Come. Come bid me farewell, my lad."_

_After the shadowed figure disappeared, he finally remembered his father was lying on the ground. He was sitting with his back to his wife, and Eric's mother's body, as if he was only resting from a lengthy battle that had taken place. But as Eric approached him cautiously, he quickly saw different. He had been pierced by a sword directly through his chest. The blade responsible had been pulled back out the instance the man guilty fled. There was blood puddled everywhere._

_Eric laid beside his father's body. Ulfrik opened his eyes slowly and endeavoured to speak to his son. Instead, blood gurgled and incoherent words choked on the back of his tongue. Eric bent over him, pressing his ear against his lips to hear him. Not a single word came, so he lifted his head and peered down at his father. His father's moist gaze strayed to the ceiling above him. He was drifting._

_"Father," Eric whispered desperately, taking his hand and kissing it. He wiped his father's long matted hair away from his sweaty brow with care. "Father, speak to me!"_

_His father's eyes closed wearily. Then he opened them and attempted to speak. "Farewell, my son. I feel the end is near. I am dying."_

_Eric felt a sudden fear gnawing within; He was suddenly terrified. "Nay!" he cried tremulously. "Nay! You can't leave me!"_

_"You know what to do, my lad. You know what must be done." Ulfrik smiled at his only son. Eric kissed his brow, and leaned in closer to listen. "Vengeance..." Was his last and final words._

_"Vengeance? Vengeance on who, father?"_

_But Ulfrik did not speak again._

_Eric sat for a while, bent over his father's body, weeping, his head bowed with intense grief. And then a rage started boiling within him; Anger so intense, so crippling, that he began to shake all over._

_'They all deserve to suffer,' _he thought to himself bitterly that day,_ 'Everybody. They failed to protect my father. Damn the whole kingdom! They, who let the enemy into the house like cowards; they, who did nothing to assist their king and my father. Vengeance will be brought on all, worthy and unworthy of it. Where is loyalty? It is non-existent now!'_

And he kept loyal to his father's word ever since. He got his vengeance on burning village to village, but nothing presented him more satisfaction than the idea that along with burning each village to the ground, there was always the possibility wolves were burned along with the ash.

It wasn't regular townsfolk he had intended to kill; Most got in the way of the wreckage and perished in the hellish flames he brought onto the town. He never knew the name the murderer of his family went by, but he prayed eventually, one of these days, he would be consumed in the flames; That sole notion brought onto Eric immediate comfort and clarity.

He did not burn village to be a villain. He did it out of his father's last, undying wish for vengeance. As he inspected the footprints of wolves marking the lands, he had confidence that he was growing closer into succeeding and accomplishing his father's last wish.

Eric was a different man now, than he was those years ago. He no longer feared death, as it was a mighty-some possibility for him. He was not a mere mortal that could easily be struck down by a blade, or hammer now. No, he was immortal. He now considered himself a worthier competitor against the man responsible of slaughtering his family.

He brought the stone attached to the necklace he had removed from his father's corpse to his lips, and spoke into it in hushed, fervent undertones, promising his father he would fulfil his prophecy very soon. He turned and looked up at his distrustful companion as she sat on his horse. He felt his heart swell with many sensations he hadn't felt in years; Quiet admiration, and a certain pride that he had found the very being that had captured his heart years ago. He noticed she was watching him, with an expression matching both curiosity and suspicion.

Then he swooped to his feet, said to her, "Come," and continued after the tracks printed on the earth. Slowly, his horse pushed forward, and she followed.


End file.
